


Sex and Sense of Self

by TripleX_Tyrant



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, CINCD99, Canon Divergent, Existentialism, M/M, Self-cest, rickcest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 11:13:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10570134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TripleX_Tyrant/pseuds/TripleX_Tyrant
Summary: In a distant but parallel finite curve: Rick D99 narrowly escapes being taken over by Rick C137. But the close call lingers with him. At the same time, Commander-in-Chief Rick has taken to visiting a popular location for secret Rick hookups. When a new Rick shows up to the Lounge, the commander takes an interest.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This story features two Ricks who debuted in the season 3 premier, [Commander-in-Chief Rick](http://vignette4.wikia.nocookie.net/rickandmorty/images/4/4e/Commander_in_Chief_Rick.png/revision/latest/scale-to-width-down/250?cb=20170402203733) and [Rick D99](https://vignette1.wikia.nocookie.net/rickandmorty/images/d/d2/Rick_D99.png/revision/latest/scale-to-width-down/250?cb=20170402053917). Or rather, it features Ricks who are parallel to those Ricks. I imagine with truly infinite dimensions, there must be an infinite number of "finite curves" with their own catalog of Ricks and their own Citadels of Ricks.
> 
> If that's not how the canon multiverse is meant to work, then fine, the fic is canon divergent.

When the Commander-in-Chief of the Citadel of Ricks militia got the call that a lone member of SEAL Team Ricks was being treated in the ER and was demanding to speak with him ASAP, he knew something hadn’t gone according to plan. The commander marched through the Citadel corridors with a pulse beating to serious concern. Rick D99 was easily argued to be one of the more brutal Ricks within the Armed Rick Forces, a characteristic that earned him a spot on the special task force. And it wasn’t of D99’s character to leave a mission unfinished.

Commander-in-Chief Rick entered the ER, stormed past the Ricks with minor injuries being treated by nurse Mortys (some of the more disgusting Ricks overcrowded the ER just to be treated by the nurse Mortys, but CINC Rick was too preoccupied to give them the sneers they deserved) and barreled through the back doors. Surgeon Rick turned to face the commander, eyes laced with boredom as a length of thread ran from the needle in his hand to the half-stitched wound on Rick D99’s stomach. A neat rectangle had been cut out of his uniform around the wound for the procedure.

At the sight of the commander coming nearer, jodhpurs starched stiff and hat perched properly centered atop his head, D99 lunged upright on the examination table, only to immediately groan and grab at his wound. Fresh blood stained his chin where he’d been puking up the blood pouring into his stomach. Surgeon Rick yanked his hand away and continued sewing as D99 rested back on the table.

“A non-fatal gut shot?” CINC Rick asked with a frown and a quirked brow. “Well la-dee-da, that’s motive to abandon a mission against the Galactic Federation if I ever heard one.”

D99 snapped at CINC Rick, “The son of a bitch tried to take me over! He rigged a series 9000 brainalyzer to take over a Gromflomite’s body.”

“What?”

“After I shot C137 in the head, a Gromflomite came outta nowhere and aimed the series9000’s laser right at me, that motherfucker. But I ducked, and Rick F101 got hit and started shooting everybody. The rest of the SEAL Ricks are dead, do you get me?! Except One-oh-one.”

Rick F101 was an equally exceptional member of the Armed Rick Forces, sporting a flattop and a high-tech eyepatch of his own design to replace an eye he’d lost on a previous mission of SEAL Team Ricks’s involving one universe’s rebooted Galactic Federation.

“You’re saying C137 took over F one-zero-one’s body and killed the rest of the SEALs, and you decided it was better to abandon ship than take out the very Rick you were sent to assassinate?”

“I’d been shot! Listen to what I’m saying, Commander. I’m telling you what C137 is going to do next. That should be more useful to you than me fighting till my dying breath.” D99’s rapid speech was interrupted by a long, pained breath. “Listen to me. If I know Rick, you’re probably going to get a call from One-oh-one. Don’t take it! Figure out his location and send somebody to deal with him. That’s C137, and he’s coming for the Council. Don’t let him call in.” While D99 gave his suggestion, the commander, with hands folded neatly behind his back, crossed the room to the wall phone, scanned a card on a cord around his neck that snapped back when he released it, and began typing orders for F101’s termination. D99 continued, saying through gritted teeth, “Now I’d say this information is vital enough to excuse ducking out a little early. Wouldn’t you?”

“I would, but with much less lip were I in your position. Aaand, there. New orders to take out F101 are in effect. The SEAL Team Ricks ship is on its way back and will be blown up the moment it comes in range.”

“Oh good,” D99 said, his voice growing light and airy, the frustration on his face melting away as his eyes glazed over. “I think I’m gonna take a nap now.”

Surgeon Rick turned around on his stool to dump a used syringe into the wastebasket beside him. Then, taking his needle back up, he looked to the commander and said, “You were done talking, right?”

 

For the past few months, Commander-in-Chief Rick had come to spend many of his off nights at the Ricknight Lounge, a shitty little dive bar on the Citadel. It wasn’t a place most Ricks chose to patron, usually only drawing in the Ricks whose funds and ambitions had found their way down the proverbial drain. However, it was because of the establishment’s poor status that it had become a sort of secret meeting place for a particular type of Rick with peculiar tastes. Though not seen to be quite as abhorrent as the Ricks who crowded the nurse Mortys in the ER or tried to offer food to the Mortys through the fence of the Morty DayCare, most Ricks still viewed their counterparts who participated in these indulgences as being sick in their own right.

These were the Ricks who indulged in Rickcest. Such Ricks were the butt of many Ricks’ insults, their title often being thrown at a Rick who made his depression too clear. “Go have sex with yourself, you sad Rick.” “He looks like he goes to the Ricknight Lounge, if you know what I mean.” To many Ricks, the imagery of Ricks screwing was analogous to jerking off with tears for lube.

As for CINC Rick, he’d never committed Rickcest himself. But he found the idea fascinating. On his visits to the Ricknight Lounge, he never wore his uniform. To be recognized would put a blemish on his position. Instead he donned the usual Rick attire. In the trademark lab coat and slacks, the only thing that set him apart from the majority of Ricks was the way the hair on top of his head lay flat from wearing his hat all day. And he never engaged with any of the other Ricks, save for the bartender. He’d order a burger and a rum and Ric-Kola, and he’d sit at one of the little round tables in the corner so that to his right he could watch the entrance, and to his left and in front he could see everything else. And he watched the Ricks.

After spending so many nights at the infamous dive, one thing he’d come to realize was that the stereotype didn’t hold too true. Sure, there were the down-on-their-luck Ricks who hunched over their bottles and glasses at the bar, heads in their hands. But the Ricks who sidled up to each other and whispered in each others’ ears, the Ricks who nodded to each other low from across the dark room before one crossed to meet the other, these Ricks were not the obviously sad and pathetic men they were rumored to be. Not that there weren’t the individual cases. Last week, CINC Rick had watched a Guard Rick sobbing into the chest of another Rick who petted his head for several minutes before standing and, with a look that was either benevolent or condescending, leading the guard out the door. But these were not the usual cases.

And then there was this night, a seemingly random night of the week following the assassination of Rick C137. This night, Commander-in-Chief Rick took a bite of his burger at the same moment another typical Rick slunk his way through the door and past his table. No, this slinking Rick, hands buried in his coat pockets, wasn’t entirely typical. The limp mohawk flopping to the left atop his head was his bit of outer-rebellion, along with black boots in place of the usual loafers. The way he approached the bar with shoulders hiked and head low reminded the commander of his first visit to the Lounge. It had been after giving the direct order that botched a mission a few months back. He’d come to drown his sorrows only to find Ricks who seemed to know a happiness he could hardly fathom.

The limp-mohawked Rick took his single beer to an empty table against the wall a few tables down from CINC Rick, and there he sat, arms planted on either side of his bottle, eyes glaring at the tabletop. This Rick spent fifteen minutes refusing to acknowledge any other life in the building. And then he left. And maybe CINC Rick would have never thought of him again if not for his reappearance only two weeks later.

That night, CINC Rick ate a greasy corn dog at his usual table while he watched a wasted Rick slide into a chair beside the mohawked Rick. He must have been one sloshed Rick to not feel the aura that surrounded Mohawk Rick. That, or this Rick was into the moody types. Either way, CINC Rick watched the drooling Rick lay a hand on Mohawk’s thigh before leaning in to speak probably rancid words of lust into his face. CINC Rick took a bite of his corn dog, and in the next moment, Mohawk was flipping his table.

The wasted Rick fell out of his chair and into the floor, and Mohawk stood over him with fists balled. His shouts broke through the loud music. “You got somethin’ ta fuckin’ ask me, old man, you do it with some respect! You think I came here to get my dick into your sorry shit hole?” For the first time, Mohawk Rick lifted his head and let his eyes run along the dark, dingy room. Ricks in pairs gave him looks of either shock or blatant apathy. He huffed, sneering at the audience. Then he turned and marched off.

CINC Rick chewed slowly, thoughtfully, as Mohawk stomped past and threw open the door. The commander swallowed, carefully drained the remainder of his rum and Ric-Kola, and rose from his chair.

Following the Rick with the limp mohawk from several yards back, CINC Rick kept his footfalls soft. After a while, Mohawk peered from left to right before ducking between two buildings. CINC Rick quickly moved up against the wall and stepped as quickly and quietly as a prowling cat to the corner. From here, he could see the other Rick’s reflection in the side window of the Invention Exchange building next door. The Rick stomped the ground, ran his hands across the shaved sides of his head, then mussed with his mohawk until it stood upright in a row of spikes.

To CINC Rick’s surprise, he recognized this Rick. It was Rick D99. Well, it was just three weeks ago when the failed SEAL Team Ricks mission compromised his entire squad. He supposed even a cocky Rick like D99 could feel at fault for something like that. Maybe he was just there to drown his sorrows after all. And yet, the commander found himself hoping otherwise. He stepped around the corner.

“You know you can’t blame the guy for thinking you wanted a hookup,” CINC Rick said.

D99 spun around, hand going to a holster on his hip that had been hidden by his coat. When CINC Rick held his hands up and shook his head, D99 lowered his hand and spat on the ground. “Who the hell are you?”

“Name’s Rick. What about you?”

D99 nodded and tapped his fingers against his thigh. “That shit never gets old, does it?”

“So what is your business at the Lounge? I saw you there the other week, too. If you’re not looking for a hookup, what are you doing?”

“What’s it fuckin’ to ya? Maybe I just wanted a drink.”

“Maybe, but I doubt it.” CINC Rick didn’t like the volume they were maintaining, so he closed their distance, hands folded neatly behind his back as he approached, heels clicking on the pavement below, and when he stopped before the other Rick, D99 looked him up and down, then cleared his throat.

“It’s not that juicy of a story,” D99 said. “I just thought I’d check it out. You hear all those stories about sick, lonely Ricks. I wanted to see what the place was really like. Rick-watching, that’s all. Guess I’ve got no better way to spend my free time.”

“Rick-watching,” CINC Rick repeated.

“That’s what I said.”

“Did you see many Ricks while you were glaring into your bottle?” D99 said nothing in reply, so he continued. “I can think of something a little more hands-on than watching if you wanna find out what it’s all about.”

 

Considering his reaction to the wasted Rick, Commander-in-Chief Rick was surprised D99 followed him this far. They’d made their way to the Rickway Inn, an inn adjacent to the Ricknight Lounge. All housing establishments on the Citadel were meant for Ricks and Mortys who either lived there or needed a place to stay during extended business. However, if the look that the receptionist Morty gave them as he handed over their key was any indication, it seemed the close proximity to the Lounge gave other Ricks the same idea it had given the commander. The room they were given was cramped, with brown carpeting and rusty-red painted sheetrock walls. The only furnishings were a small chair by the window, a single queen-sized bed with a wall-mounted TV across from it, and a nightstand with a phone. The window was covered by cracked, green blinds. The place made CINC Rick long for his Citadel home, but he didn’t dare bring D99 there.

Even as CINC Rick eased into the room, D99 remained by the door with arms crossed. To see the hardened, militant Rick so nervous about a sexual encounter brought an amused warmth to the commander’s heart. But even he wasn’t exactly sure what they were doing here. For all the time he spent watching the Rick couples, it hadn’t been much of a surprise to himself that he gradually began to fantasize about joining them. So why had he only bothered to approach a Rick who clearly wasn’t comfortable with the idea? Add to that the fact that this was a Rick who worked not very far below him on the same chain of command.

Apparently he wasn’t the only one questioning his motives, as was evident when D99 opened his mouth for the first time since entering the Rickway Inn.

“I gotta ask. Why bother coming after me? I’ve clearly never done this shit before. Weren’t there any other sick Ricks in the joint?”

As CINC Rick pondered his response, he took a seat on the end of the bed. Then he patted his thigh. “Come here, Rick.”

“What?”

CINC Rick scooted back a bit, spreading his legs and patting the space between his thighs. “Come over here and relax a little bit.” D99 did as he was told, sitting on the very edge of the bed between the other Rick’s legs. When CINC Rick put his hands on his shoulders, he shivered. “I guess for the same reason you agreed to accompany me. I was curious.”

“A Rick’s a Rick,” D99 said while CINC Rick lightly massaged his shoulders. “You coulda chose any of the assholes in there and it wouldn’t make a difference. A Rick’s a Rick.”

“That’s not entirely true.” He lifted his hand and slid his fingertips across the section of buzzed hair just behind D99’s right ear. “You’ve got this neat little mohawk thing going on. I bet the ladies wet their panties over that.”

“’s just a haircut. About any Rick could do it if they wanted. That’s just part of the big joke about Ricks, you know. We all wanna be rebels. And when everybody’s a rebel, nobody is.”

CINC Rick moved his hands down D99’s back and hummed. “A rebel, huh. So you don’t work on the Citadel, then?”

D99 snorted. “No, I do. That’s the bigger joke.”

This made the commander smirk. “Every Rick wants to think they’re somehow more Rick than any other Rick. But we all know that’s bullshit. There’s no standard to compare to. No original. Say, this would be easier if we lost the coat.”

When CINC Rick pulled the coat up from D99’s shoulders, D99 quickly clasped the commander’s hands in his own. Arms crossed over his chest, D99 curled forward, never letting go of the other Rick’s hands. “This body. I-it’s mine, right? At the very least… A-at the very least, that still matters.” The commander remembered what D99 had said about the brainalyzer, but he didn’t know what to say about it now. D99 went on. “Have you ever thought about that? Dying is one thing. You take it all with you when you die. But what if an imposter took your body? Would anyone know? A-and what if that imposter was just another you? It wouldn’t even matter, would it? Have you ever thought about that?”

D99 began to shudder, and Commander-in-Chief Rick grew uncomfortable. “No, I don’t suppose I really have.”

“I shouldn’t tell you this. But I’m part of a… No, just listen. I had to face off with another Rick recently. Me and some other Ricks. That’s all you need to know.” Of course, CINC Rick knew the story already. “This fuckin’ rogue Rick had a series 9000 brainalyzer. Just a series 9000! But he’d done somethin’ to it. He was jumpin’ from body to body. Or mind to mind. However you wanna think of it. H-he almost got me. Almost got me!”

D99 shivered and shook, and the commander couldn’t take it. He pulled his hands out from under D99’s and pushed him off. “Knock that shit off,” he demanded, rising from the bed and grabbing D99 by the arms, turning him around and looking into his wide, terrified eyes. “Whatever you’re saying could have happened, well it didn’t happen. You’re still you. You’re right here, right now, being the biggest boner-killer I never thought I’d take to a hotel.”

D99 took a step back, breaths heavy but steadying. “OK. OK.” He turned his head down and rubbed his forehead, then he froze and peeked at the commander out from under the shadow of his hand. “Help me, Rick. Tell me my body is mine. This busted up flesh-vessel is all I fuckin’ got, you know it?” He weakly shrugged his coat off and let it fall to the carpet. Then he pulled off his shirt, and CINC Rick saw the marks and scars covering his torso, including the fresh scar running to the right of his belly button. The one he’d watched Surgeon Rick sew up.

He reached carefully for the fresh scar, touching it lightly. And looking into D99’s eyes, he said, “I can do that.”

The two disrobed in silence, D99 dumping his clothes on the carpet while the commander carried his to the chair. Then CINC Rick slid onto the bed and turned down the sheets beside him.

Rick D99 crawled up from the end of the bed and flipped onto his back atop the turned-down blanket. He folded his arms over his ribs and stared at the ceiling. There was a brown water stain just above him. It was amazing how drastically different the quality of Citadel life could be depending on where a Rick or Morty found himself. When the other Rick nudged him with a bare foot, D99 was brought back to the strange situation. And looking at this other Rick now, he saw that he sported some scarring himself.

“W-where’d you get that?” D99 asked, pointing to a fat, raised scar that corkscrewed down the length of the commander’s inner thigh.

CINC Rick smiled at D99’s attention. “I endured a lot to get to my position on the Citadel.” He sat up and took D99’s hand in his own, then led his fingers along the thigh scar. “It’s just part of what makes me me, and not some other Rick.”

“Shit,” D99 said in a breath that almost became laughter. He pulled his hand away. “Now you’re makin’ fun of me.”

“What makes you think that?”

D99 sat up and groaned. “This isn’t helping. This isn’t going to work the way I wanted it to.”

The commander scowled. “I don’t have all night to wait for you to get over your identity crisis. Do you wanna fuck or not?”

“Just…” D99 took CINC Rick by both wrists. One hand he pulled to the scar on his gut, and the other he brought to the side of his buzzed head. “Listen, just make me feel like I’m in this thing, alright. That it matters that it’s me and not some other Rick.”

CINC Rick nodded, stroking the side of his head. “OK, Rick. Don’t you worry. I’m gonna take real good care of you.”

“Watch the tone, asshole.”

With an annoyed sigh, the commander slid his hand into D99’s mohawk, taking a fistful of it before rising to his feet on the bed. “How’s this for a tone? Despite your whining, you’ve left me all hot and bothered.” He plopped his erection against D99’s cheek, and D99 leaned away only to be pulled back by his hair. “Why don’t you use all that autonomy to suck this big Rick dick?”

“I think that’s what they asked me when I signed up for my Citadel position.” For a moment, the commander thought D99 was going to jerk away and march right on out the room. Instead, he opened his scowling mouth and took the Rick dick.

So this was what it felt like to suck his own dick, D99 thought. They really were made the same. CINC Rick groaned as D99 worked up to taking more and more of his hot length. Despite the firm grip on his hair, D99 found enough freedom to maneuver and experiment. He knew exactly what he liked, and he wondered how much of his own tastes he’d find duplicated in this other Rick. He sucked and tongued, twisting every time he pulled away and sending CINC Rick’s legs trembling. D99 hummed at the sound of the other Rick’s familiar airy sighs.

D99 pulled back, and gripping the other Rick’s cock at the base, he licked and suckled at the head. He’d known other men to love this sort of attention, but it only proved his dreaded hypothesis when CINC Rick’s sighs died and he tugged at his hair. “Don’t be shy,” CINC Rick said through gritted teeth. “Take it all, honey.”

Unsurprising. This Rick was the same as him. Head massages were just a tease when more could be had. D99 slipped his hands up the backs of CINC Rick’s thighs until he cupped his ass cheeks. Then he looked up at him. CINC Rick had his forearm pressed to the wall for balance, and he looked down on D99 with drool on his lips. His hips twitched forward, and the mattress shook under his feet. “Well?”

“Ricks wouldn’t think we’re such hot shit if we all got to see ourselves from this perspective,” D99 said. And with that, he licked his lips, opened wide, and took the throbbing girth back into his mouth. CINC Rick made a sound, like he meant to refute D99’s claim, but this was lost on him when he felt the heat of D99’s throat engulfing him. The sensation of D99’s breath blowing into his pubes as his nose came nearer to burying itself there. His lips sealing around the base of his cock. Whatever sounds were meant to come out of the commander’s mouth became a loud and shaky moan. His legs trembled, his fists balled tight and made D99 wince, and the bed rattled below.

D99 fell silent as the length slid down his throat, pulled back out, then pushed down again. He squeezed the commander’s ass hard and reveled in the moans he was eliciting. He pulled off, strings of spit running from his reddened lips to the purple cock that slapped back against CINC Rick’s belly, and D99 gasped and coughed. A quick glance at the other Rick, who removed his hand from D99’s hair to run it through his own as he panted, told D99 just how superb his technique was. And just how well he knew his partner. Ducking lower, D99 touched the tip of his long, dexterous tongue to the bottom of CINC Rick’s balls. He dragged his tongue across his sack, up to the base of his cock, then up along its whole length.

“Ohhh, fuck yeah,” Commander-in-Chief Rick said, low and gravelly.

D99 pulled away and barked a short laugh. He crossed his arms and propped up a knee, sneering up at CINC Rick as he said, “We really are all just the same. Same turn-ons and everything, you know it?”

At that, CINC Rick let out a groan of the non-sexually charged variety and dropped to his knees on the bed. “Not this again.” He snatched D99 by the upper arms. “That does it! I’m gonna fuck this pissiness out of you, and if you still wanna bitch and moan after I fill you up, you can do it when I’m gone.”

“Oh yeah?” D99 replied, twisting out of the other Rick’s hold only to be ignored when CINC Rick grabbed him by the ankles and yanked him onto his back. “Hey!” he shouted, kicking in the other Rick’s grasp. He managed to break one leg free and kick CINC Rick square in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. CINC Rick wrapped his arms around his middle and glared at D99. Without a word, he lunged, taking D99 behind the knees and lifting his legs into the air, folding him over and looming over him.

“You look so cute in this compromising position.”

“Sure. Fuck you, buddy,” D99 spat.

“You got it.”

It was at that moment, in the excitement of situating himself over D99, that the commander noticed for the first time the steel that decorated the underside of D99’s semi. Intrigued, CINC Rick dropped D99’s legs and took his cock into his hand. With his thumb, he stroked up the Jacob’s ladder: four barbells piercing the underside of his shaft. As D99 stiffened in his hand, CINC Rick watched the four barbells spread, each sitting apart from one another, running up the whole length save for the first inch and a half from the base.

“Never screwed a Rick with a dick piercing or somethin’?” D99 asked.

CINC Rick looked him in the eyes. “You want something to tell you you’re your own Rick, look no further than this.”

“It’s no different than a haircut. Any Rick could have that done. I got the first one when I was thirty-two, and the rest about five years later.”

“I _couldn’t_ do this.” He pressed their twin cocks together, rolling his hips and feeling the Jacob’s ladder glide across him.

“You serious?”

CINC Rick chose to ignore the snicker in D99’s words. “Hell no, are you kidding? I’m not letting anyone stick a needle through my dick. Shit’s sacred. And not to mention, you know, I bet it hurt like hell.” As he said this, he pulled away and ran his index finger across each barbel individually. Inspecting. Admiring.

“Ehh, it doesn’t hurt as bad as you’d think.”

“Yeah right,” CINC Rick said. Then his eyes snapped to D99’s again, brimming with new excitement. He licked his lips and said, “I want this inside me.” D99’s cock throbbed.

It was a quick moment for the two to get ready, Commander-in-Chief Rick lubing them up with his own supply. On his stomach, arms crossed under his chin, he faced the television across from the bed and watched their reflection within. D99 straddled his legs and slipped the head of his cock along the commander’s liberally lubed crack. In his hand, CINC Rick gripped a glass vial of poppers. He unscrewed the top, lifted the vial to his nostril, and huffed. The head rush followed shortly, and he moaned, rubbing his forehead against his knuckles as he rocked his ass for D99. His cock throbbed against the blanket, and he ached for what was to come.

He handed the vial back to D99, who merely dropped it onto the bed. Then he slipped past the commander’s cheeks, his cock plunging into the tight heat of his hole. It was his turn to moan now, squeezing CINC Rick’s ass cheeks almost painfully. CINC Rick watched D99’s reflection, how his head hung low as he thrust deep and slow. The commander panted against his own knuckles, humming in delight at the feeling of D99’s pierced cock running along his overly sensitive nerves. It was better than any ribbed condom hoped to be. And it wasn’t long before he was crying out at D99’s quickening thrusts.

The lewd, needy whines of the other Rick demanded D99 to go faster and harder. But even as he plowed away, it was he who truly felt more need than want. “You like that, don’t you?” he panted out, knowing the VHS porn quality of the question and counting on it to disguise how much he actually desired the other Rick’s answer.

“Oh yeeah, baby. Fuck me – ah – yeah, just like that. Ahh, fuck me, fuck me. Feels so good.”

A whimper slipped past D99’s lips. He shut his eyes and fucked. This Rick’s proper speech had gone, apparently because of him. “Ever been fucked like this by another Rick?”

CINC Rick shook his head. “Never! Oh, you’re one-of-a-kind. Not another Rick could fill me up and make me feel like you do, baby.”

Suddenly, D99 stuck his nails into CINC Rick’s shoulders and clawed straight down to the soft flesh of his ass, leaving two sets of four puffy pink lines. CINC Rick gasped, and tears pricked the corners of his eyes. D99 pulled out, saying, “There you go being a condescending fuck again.”

“What?” CINC Rick snapped, flipping over and sitting up. He reached behind to rub on his back. “Why do you have to be so damn flaky? Can’t you just enjoy this?”

“I don’t screw guys who don’t take me seriously.”

“I’m taking this very seriously. I _seriously_ don’t wanna stop every five minutes waiting for you to get over yourself. Come here.” CINC Rick planted his palms on D99’s chest and pushed him down onto the bed, quickly straddling him. He snatched up the poppers and took a huff before dropping the vial back on the bed. Then he reached under and slipped D99’s cock back into place, sliding down on him. D99 grunted and gripped the commander’s hips as he bucked up into him.

D99 opened his mouth, only to have his words gobbled away by CINC Rick’s lips on his, the commander’s tongue invading. They broke apart, words lost on the both of them as the room filled with moans and groans and the squelching wet slaps of the commander’s ass coming down on D99’s hips. Soon, CINC Rick squeezed impossibly tight around D99, sending his head spinning. Knowing they were both so close was what allowed the reins to slip for D99. His hands dropped from Commander-in-Chief Rick’s hips to grip his thighs. Then D99 slammed his eyes shut and threw his head back, thrusting upwards. “Fuck!” he rasped. “Commander, I’m cuh-cumming!”

At the sound of his title, Commander-in-Chief Rick flushed, heart suddenly heavy. D99 finished in three spectacular shudders, filling the commander until his jizz ran out over his hip. Spent, he stared wide-eyed at the ceiling. CINC Rick took up his own member and pumped rapidly, and before long, he was growling as thick ropes erupted over D99’s belly. He lifted off and let the last of his jizz fall onto D99’s chest and nipples.

CINC Rick flopped onto his back, lying on D99’s left and joining him in staring at the ceiling. After a moment of quiet, and after their breathing had steadied, he said, “So you knew it was me?”

“Well I do now. I think it’s the way you walk, or how you talk or something. Also, the hat hair. Anyhow, if I was wrong, you’da just thought I had a weird kink or somethin’.”

CINC Rick laughed at that. Then he reached up and stroked the side of D99’s buzzed head again.

“You know,” D99 said, “I never woulda took you for a Rickcest guy.”

“Tell me about it. This was my first time.”

D99 broke away from the commander’s touch, propping up on his elbow. “No shit?”

“Yeah, but it was good, wasn’t it? Even with another version of yourself, you can feel that electricity in every nerve telling your body it’s alive and it’s yours. Do you still think I’m mocking you, D99?”

“I dunno. I would. If the situation were switched.”

“Then put that in the pocket with the mohawk and dick piercings, 'cause that’s not what I’m doing. You almost lost yourself to another Rick, but that other Rick wouldn’t become you. And you wouldn’t become him. You’re you.”

“Hmm.” D99 lay back on the bed again. “Sounds like an excuse we tell ourselves to get to sleep at night.”

“It’s better than the shit you were talking at the start of the night. I’m going to be watching you, D99.”

“Watching me, Commander?”

“Mm-hm. And when I think you need a good fuck to get that junk out of your head, I’m going to be the Rick to give it to you.”

“Is that an order?”

“I dunno, you got some kind of weird kink or something?”

D99 laughed now. “If I start gettin’ one, I’ll put it in the pocket with the mohawk and dick piercings.”

**Author's Note:**

> Check out [this amazing art for the fic](http://triplex-tyrant.tumblr.com/post/159646436605/futagogo-everybery-commission-for-futagogo) by tumblr user [Everybery](http://everybery.tumblr.com/), commissioned by my good friends [Futagogo](http://futagogo.tumblr.com/)! You'll be doing yourself a favor.


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